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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129333">fractal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/morinoke/pseuds/morinoke'>morinoke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Near Death Experiences, Self-Doubt, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:07:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/morinoke/pseuds/morinoke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“People and fireworks…bloom for an instant and wither away. Even though both are fleeting, we are still entranced by them.” </p><p>(Or; Hayato Yamagata’s journey in finding out what people and the word fleeting really have in common.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kawanishi Taichi/Yamagata Hayato</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fractal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was inspired by the Koe no Katachi/A Silent Voice movie, especially the scene where Ishida tries to save Nishimiya. Naturally, that scene destroyed my whole being and left me lying on my bed to stare at the ceiling in tears, so that culminated in some musing. </p><p>Enjoy this Kawagata fic from yours truly!</p><p>Song on loop: Kensuke Ushio - frc</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were scores of fatigued-looking people that were milling about under the canopy of the night sky, and yet it made no damper on the high spirits that were bursting out from within Hayato. In this fashion, he leaps across the pathway laid out in front of him, the proceedings of his usual runs inculcated into his steps. </p><p>One might inquire as to why he was grinning from ear to ear while running, but if any passerby were curious enough, they’d be left in his tracks instead. He was simply too ecstatic about the fated meeting that he had arranged with his ever-competent junior Taichi, who had cordially invited him to his house for a study session (to which he was simply too thankful for; he was barely passing English). Till now, he had neither reason or rhyme as to why he was seeking help from someone a year his junior, but he had never bothered with the nitty-gritty in the first place. If Taichi was smart, then it meant good news for both of them! </p><p>And good grades as well, for that matter. </p><p>Putting that aside, he eases into one last spurt of the distance to Taichi’s apartment block and arrives with a graceful fashion to stamp his feet down in front of the entrance gates. Huffing triumphantly, Hayato makes his way into the housing estate, head held high and filled with exuberance to start studying under the careful supervision of a genius. </p><p>To be frank, he was never one for studying or concentrating at his desk all day as Kenjirou did. It simply presented itself as too much of a bore or didn’t fit inside the meagre parameters of Hayato’s concentration, but if there were say, <em> a bit of an incentive </em>, he would gladly cram school into a crushed wad of paper and stuff it into his mouth. </p><p>(The incentive here was being able to visit Taichi’s home, a place where he kept his fondest memories and was fabled to be the most private of private places. It had made Hayato so incredibly honoured to be able to get a chance to catch a glimpse of it firsthand and hopefully, get to know Taichi a little bit better.) </p><p>In the midst of trying to find where Taichi lived, Hayato had hunted up and down the chain of apartments on the 14th floor, trying to spot the delicate kanji letters of 川西 on a name plaque. He was relatively sure he could make them out pretty well by now, as he had done and practised many times before. The bearings of his name were rather pleasant to look at, and as he lets out a proud exclaim in front of Taichi’s door, he prides himself on being able to retain a name he had mumbled under his breath many times over. </p><p>From when he had first met Taichi, he was bent on remembering the boy’s name, even if his studies went right over his head.</p><p>Hayato grips tightly on the thick strap of his duffel bag, reddening a little. <em> It’s just remembering Taichi’s name from the very beginning. There’s no meaning to it, not even a little.  </em></p><p>In spite of himself though, he mouths over the hiccups and syllables in Taichi’s name, and gasps in a breath of air. He tries to mentally brace himself for their umpteenth meeting, but nervousness feels like poison coursing through his veins as he shakily presses the doorbell twice. He feels laden down by the ill-timed tenseness of the moment and steps back, awaiting a response. </p><p>Hayato gets none. </p><p>Quizzical, he inspects the door as if it will swing open to reveal a scurried Taichi, brow sweaty from rushing over to welcome him into his home of many possibilities. Or maybe, an apologetic Taichi who didn’t manage to hear the bell and seemed to be caught up in working hard. Either way, Hayato was agreeable with any side that was shown to him, but the period of time that he spends standing outside like a straggler begins to worry him. </p><p>He knocks again and tries the door handle, and to his surprise, he finds that the door is unlocked. Stumbling back a little due to the shock, Hayato gawks at the slightly ajar entryway. Millions of questions flood into his mind and he crosses his arms, formulating all sorts of answers as to why there was a lack of security that separated Taichi’s home and the public corridor. </p><p>
  <em> He must have forgotten to lock it.  </em>
</p><p>“Taichi? Are you there?” Hayato calls out, and again, gets silence back in return. </p><p>He shrugs dismissively and excuses himself into the seemingly homely environment that stood before him. “<em>Ojama shimasu</em>.” Muttering, he notes the shadowed atmosphere of a darkened hallway and even more of his hairs stand on end. </p><p>Despite all of this though, Hayato’s sure that there has to be a reason as to why Taichi’s door was locked, and why he didn’t have any lights switched on. </p><p>After all, Taichi was a smart guy, and he usually didn’t do things without thinking them through first. It was why he was a middle blocker, as he needed to serve as the cornerstone of defence whenever he was on the court. It was also why Satori was so proud of him whenever he had successfully pulled off a block-out against any rival team they were up against, and it was also why he was in Class 5. He was even in a class one tier higher than Kenjirou, and Hayato sincerely believed that he needed to give himself more credit for crying out loud. </p><p>Taichi was always quite unsure of himself and the insecurity often presented itself in each of his actions. He always kept to himself, even if their team was complete and the mood was soaring. He only talked when spoken to, with the exception of Kenjirou and Hayato himself. </p><p>Perpetually, it was one of Hayato’s fervent wishes to bring him to his senses and make Taichi realize just how amazing he was, but every time he had forged a clever plan to affirm him, circumstances or his own cowardice would always silence him. </p><p>
  <em> Not today, though. Today, I’ll praise Taichi as many times as it takes, to let him see who he really is and believe in himself. I won’t go home until I make him smile!  </em>
</p><p>As Hayato tosses his shoes aside with a vengeance, Taichi’s tall, looming figure finally comes into view and he subsequently heaves an alleviating sigh of relief. There he was! </p><p>A joyful greeting nearly dislodges itself from Hayato's throat, but there <em> is </em> one thing that he senses to be amiss about the whole scene unfolding in front of him. It’s the fact that Taichi stands in the dead centre of his balcony a few metres away from Hayato, his hands gripping the railing. </p><p>Taichi's face inclines toward the few stars that dot the blackened sky, and to this, Hayato's first and immediate thought is that he looks to be forlorn in some manner. </p><p>Then, out of the blue, Taichi takes a step towards the edge of the balcony and lifts his leg up onto the railing encircling the front of his body. </p><p>"Taichi?" Hayato mutters into the air, body striding forward absentmindedly before he could even realise it himself. "What are you doing?" </p><p>He gets no answer and his heart threatens to sink deep into the recesses of his stomach. Hayato frantically abandons his bag in the same corner as his worn-out volleyball shoes and hastily makes his way inside the house one sock-padded foot at a time, his feet akin to the sensation of butter as he nearly trips on the mat guarding the hallway landing. </p><p>“Taichi...?!” Hayato enunciates clearer this time, and his panic-stricken voice echoes with the sound of his desperate heartbeat drumming against his ears. Taichi’s second leg goes over and he finds himself frozen still, eyes quivering at the sight of such despair that comes off in massive waves from Taichi. </p><p>
  <em> No, that’s impossible. He can’t be-- </em>
</p><p>As he’s monologuing to himself, Taichi brings both of his feet up to stand at attention on top of the balcony railing, his hands dangling like dead leaves at his sides. The light ginger hair that once swayed effortlessly in the wind now appeared to be piercing the dark backdrop of the sky, contrasting sharply like jagged shards of glass that stuck out rudely. The simple shirt and pants that he had on were almost enticing and pulling him into the dark abyss below, the cloth leaning forward with the wind. </p><p>“Taichi!” Hayato races to cross the living room as quick as he can, hands balled up into fists and mouth drawn into a wobbly line. Lonely shoes that rest by the balcony come into view and the weight of the situation is ultimately set in stone. </p><p>
  <em> He has to save him. Save Taichi--Taichi’s right there, you idiot!  </em>
</p><p>He tries to vault over any remaining distance that connects him and Taichi and promptly falls over a chair left stranded beside a nearby table, hissing in pain and frustration. Books and pencils clatter to the floor and he sweeps them away hurriedly, swearing at his untimely misfortune. As he curses the universe for conspiring against him in more ways than one, he wastes no time to crawl up on his hands and knees. Disregarding the pain shooting up his ankle, Hayato is suddenly reminded of countless practices with Taichi, and of all of the times he had sweated buckets and nearly collapsed due to the exertion. </p><p>Regardless of block-follow drills, receiving drills, or anything else, he would gladly spend the time with him, even if it meant he felt as if his arms would break off any second. </p><p>However, all is overlooked as Hayato once again withholds Taichi with grief swimming in his eyes, his mouth hanging slack-jawed. </p><p>“<em><strong>T</strong></em><b><em>AICHI!</em> </b>” He screams raw, with every intention of tearing his throat apart. Through a scrunched up set of eyes however, he sees Taichi fall forward and trust himself with the hospitable hard ground below. Though unwanted, garish scenes of Taichi hitting concrete below present themselves as a tragedy in Hayato's head that he does not want to face.</p><p>Hayato can almost hear the distant sound of his heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces.</p><p>He gasps as he lunges forward to slam himself against the railing, making a wretched attempt to grab onto Taichi’s hand by flinging his own hands towards his steadily falling figure.  </p><p>(Holding his hand for the first time, and if all hope was lost, possibly the final time as well.) </p><p>
  <em> Why...? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why did you do this to yourself, Taichi?  </em>
</p><p>There are beads of tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, as he stabilizes his feet against the foundation of the tiled railing. He can feel the burning friction of his hand gripping onto Taichi’s wrist scrape against his skin and he wrestles with his own pathetic weakness, opting for both hands to hopefully pull him up just a little bit further. The sweat from his forehead drips down in rivulets and flies past Taichi’s startled expression into the darkness below, which meets Hayato’s pained facial features. </p><p>
  <em> Please God--I beg you, please let me save him! </em>
</p><p>Hayato’s molars knock against each other, as he invests every last ounce of his strength for the one person he loves more than himself. His muscles strain against the brute weight of Taichi and he thanks the heavens for his decision to be a libero. Every second of soul-wrenching practice that he went through to strengthen his arm muscles meant everything in this very moment. Forget fatigue, pain or injury; Taichi meant <em> the world </em> to him, and if he couldn’t handle this straightforward rescue, his strength would all be for nought. </p><p>
  <em> I won’t run away from my own feelings anymore. I’ll appreciate each and every single one of our teammates more, for all that they have done for me.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wakatoshi. Jin. Eita. Reon. Satori. We still need to win nationals, don't we?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Kenjirou. Tsutomu. Yunohama. Kai. Shibata. Yuushou. All of you still have so much more to learn, but I am so, so proud of each and every single one of you. You are the best juniors I could have asked for.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Taichi.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When we first met, you were still a sleepy-looking middle blocker that needed much training. Your receives needed some work and you were unconfident in your blocking, but for the miracle plays that you pulled off, you blew my mind every single time. You were truly befitting of Satori's famous nickname, miracle boy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'm starting to get tired, but I promise I will make you smile if it's the last thing I do. Your smile is my sunshine and your eyes are my stars, and they make my days so much better.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What I'm trying to say is, you are so much more than just a junior to me, and I hope you know this before I lose you forever.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I love you, Taichi.  </em>
</p><p>Squeezing his eyes together, he strains himself once more, and unexpectedly finds it in himself to support Taichi’s weight. Hayato hauls his suspended body up past dangerous range of the pavement thousands of feet below, which allows Taichi to clamber over the railing with a pant in his exhale. </p><p>Hayato doesn’t even have time to register Taichi’s safety when the adrenaline bobbing around in his limbs like a lost fish bait propels him to wrap his arms around Taichi. His fingers deeply ensnare in the strands of his hair and another hand secures Taichi close to him. Sweat has already dampened the front and back of Hayato’s shirt and his hair is matted from exhaustion. Yet, his brain rejoices at the idea that Taichi is in his arms and finally out of harm’s way. </p><p>“<em>Taichi.</em> <em>Oh</em>, <em>thank the heavens you’re fine.</em>” Hayato whispers falteringly in between breaths, enveloping Taichi even closer to him and squeezing him just enough to make it hurt. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Yama--Hayato...-san?” </p><p>“It’s me, Taichi. <em> It’s me. </em> Oh god--I was so scared, I--<em>I was so scared of losing you</em>.” </p><p>Taichi violently tenses up against Hayato’s warm embrace and his bottom lip curls into itself, droplets of tears threatening to accumulate and stream down the pale cliffs of his face. Being saved at the last second from a suicide, of all things, was definitely taking its toll. He bunches up Hayato’s shirt into his hands and digs his fingernails into the cloth, knees shuddering and knocking against the rough concrete of the balcony. </p><p>“Why--Why did you save me?” </p><p>“...You were falling, and I--I <em> had </em> to save you.” Hayato’s affectionate brown eyes wither with agony and his delicate fingers that trace circles to provide comfort hesitate for a moment. “Why did you...why did you jump off the balcony?“</p><p>There is a torturous silence that follows right after, and it is akin to the feeling of a thousand glass shards stabbed into the fragile woven layers of Hayato’s heart. </p><p><em> “ </em> ...I’m <em>begging </em> you, Taichi. Won’t you tell me why? <em> Don’t you want to live anymore?”  </em></p><p>Taichi drops into Hayato’s grasp, gnashing his teeth as he inevitably stains the peaceful night sky with his poorly controlled anguished weeping. </p><p>“I-I can’t take it anymore. I can’t--it hurts so much, Hayato-san, I--” Taichi breaks down and his sorrow is immediately made grotesque. To further ruin the despair-inducing scene, his surroundings are now made more blurry and devoid of colour, as his vision floods like a broken dam. His arms hang weakly over Hayato’s shoulders and he can feel the same fingers running through his hair again, a compassionate touch as Taichi hiccups and tries to talk through his emotions. </p><p>“I’m here, Taichi. I’m here.” </p><p>Taichi coughs, peeling his body away from Hayato’s as he languidly extends an arm to swipe at his tear-swaddled face. Immediately, Hayato wants to chase him back, but as he gazes upon the dark brown eyes of his that were once soft, he takes up his wrist instinctively and begins stroking it soothingly with his thumb. </p><p>Taichi glances up at him briefly and sniffs, eyes blinking tiredly and with little vigour left. He dips his head against Hayato’s shoulder as he stifles a whimper, which makes Hayato’s gut do a somersault. </p><p>Such was Taichi’s ability to surprise Hayato at even the most wildly surprising of moments, even if the two of them were leaning against the accursed balcony railing that had caused them misery. </p><p>Upon Hayato’s closer inspection though, there are deep eyebags that overlook Taichi’s complexion and for that, Hayato draws in a pointed breath. The inherent desire to kiss the sides of Taichi’s eyes was rising rapidly in him, but he ultimately decides against it for the sake of the situation. </p><p>
  <em> How have I never noticed how tired he looked?  </em>
</p><p>He furrows his eyebrows. Out of necessity, Hayato contemplates the possibility of staying the night and accompanying a brokenhearted Taichi. In the midst of his anxiousness however, he does allow himself to slot his hand into Taichi’s. Doing so, he hopes, will relieve some of the pain that amasses over Taichi like a dark cloud, and get him to rest by any means possible. </p><p>“Hayato...-san?”</p><p>The same nervousness bubbles up in Hayato’s veins once again, by some laughable coincidence from the earlier episode in front of Taichi’s door. However, he swallows it down into his stomach and replies, “Yes?” </p><p>“...Please don’t leave me.” </p><p>Hayato’s eyes settle on the pleading figure that seeks to find a thread of comfort in him, and naturally, he will be that pillar of support, if it is for Taichi’s sake. </p><p>“I won’t. I promise.” </p><p>For the first time that night, Hayato sees the creases on Taichi’s face smoothen out and retreat back into the sun-kissed skin, and he feels the constriction tying his body down disappear as well. He sweeps Taichi’s damp hair back like drawing a curtain and caresses his forehead, a worrisome one that inhabited the kind of demons he could only chance upon in nightmares. That was what his mind was like; a festering pool of thoughts and ideals that sought to destroy. It was a prison that shut out even Taichi himself, him having lost the key to unlock it or bring it down. </p><p>Whatever it was like, it certainly was malicious enough to drive Taichi to death’s loving grasp. </p><p>Hayato’s understanding of that strangely fuels him with determination, as he gently stands and holds a now-sleeping Taichi steady by his shoulder. Then, as he hooks an arm underneath his waist and one under his knees, Hayato lifts him up and away from the balcony. </p><p>
  <em> No one, especially Taichi, should deserve to feel like that.  </em>
</p><p>He pads across the unkempt living room, avoiding the obstacles of fallen tableware and stationery, and tries to hunt around in the darkness for a room that belongs to the boy in his arms. Photos, nametags, or even belongings, he treats them all the same; it makes Hayato’s heart ache even more to see them being treated like worthless trash. They all belong to Taichi and when given attention, they told stories that accompanied each small paraphernalia. A pen that served him dutifully during tests or assignments, or maybe a volleyball keychain that could describe Taichi’s familiarity with the sport. </p><p>For Taichi himself though, he is a rarity unseen by countless other people and to Hayato, he means the whole world and galaxies far beyond to him. Nevermind the struggles; he <em> will </em> argue that Taichi’s happiness is worth going through hell-on-earth torture and many other tragedies that might befall him. For now though, all he can do is to stay by his side and look after him, because seeing him brush paths with the <em>shinigami </em>has dealt enough emotional damage to last Hayato countless millennia.  </p><p>He finds Taichi’s room after some aimless stumbling about and follows a nearby wall to feel for the light switch, but after flicking it on, he’s met with a sea of personal belongings strewn about the floor like bear traps set in place once again. Hayato sighs, and steps across a blanket half-strewn across the floor. It leads to a sloppy presentation of a bed, but he lets it retreat to his peripheral vision. He slowly lowers Taichi to rest against the mattress and lets out a small grunt. </p><p>As he’s standing in the midst of a storm of scattered things, Hayato remains silent for a moment, before bending down to cradle all of Taichi’s things into his arms. Settling them aside temporarily, he has no idea what to do with his limbs but to feel them shake right to their tips. The beat of his unsteady heart follows along with the rise and fall of Taichi’s chest. </p><p>
  <em> Taichi’s alive. He’s in front of me, sleeping and breathing.  </em>
</p><p><em> Fuck. Just a minute ago he was about to </em> <b> <em>die</em></b><em>.  </em></p><p>Hayato tugs at the base of his head and kneels down once again, tears of fear and relief finally and steadily trickling down his grief-painted face. He feels as if he could die from a heart attack right then and there. No measure of words could possibly match up to the reprieve he was experiencing, even if it was uttered by the greats of the Japanese language or spoken by those who knew poetry. </p><p>Taichi was alive <em> in front of him</em>, and he was safe and sound <em> because of him.   </em></p><p>Hayato has no idea what form of goodwill he could have possibly done in his previous life to culminate in an exchange for Taichi’s life, but he would do it a hundredfold and another hundredfold times more if it meant he could see him safe and well. He couldn’t possibly imagine what it would have been like to live without Taichi, or even fathom the idea of being alone or moving on from him. </p><p>He doesn’t want to think about what could’ve been, or the possibilities that could have transpired if he hadn’t run as quick as he did to Taichi’s apartment. All he wants is to ensure that Taichi is healthy and happy (a big expectation, as he’s slowly coming to realize) and that he can press his palms against Taichi's familiar leathery skin and have all the entangled strings of his heart come apart in a second. </p><p>All concept of time ticking down is meaningless right at that very moment, as Hayato kneels beside Taichi to pass a glance over his features once more. He has no idea what he could be dreaming about, but then again, his silent breaths sound like melodious notes to Hayato’s ears. </p><p>
  <em> Breath.  </em>
</p><p>Overcome with emotion at the notion of life coursing through Taichi’s body, he sticks his forehead against his arm and again lets droplets of desperation and catharsis singe his face with red-hot anguish. </p><p>When he finally gets up minutes later and sits in a nearby chair situated next to Taichi’s bed, the events of what happened flicker in his mind like a slideshow before his eyes slide shut with fatigue. Run, save, Taichi. Run, save, Taichi.</p><p>
  <em> Taichi was saved because I ran.  </em>
</p><p>And despite Taichi quietly snoozing in his own bed and the hours of the night beginning to stretch, he cracks open a painful smile, and finally loses himself to Morpheus. </p><p>(He decides that the god of sleep is ultimately better than the god of death.)</p>
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